


Where Do We Go from Here

by bayoublackjack



Series: Love in London [34]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Elementary (TV), Royal Pains, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Female Friendship, Multiple Crossovers, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayoublackjack/pseuds/bayoublackjack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ladies all find themselves with relationship drama, but once they compare notes they realize a bigger storm is on the horizon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Do We Go from Here

The ladies found safe haven in Molly’s flat.  Martha had been staying there the last few days following her breakup with Tom, an event that she had yet to properly explain to her parents.

“Mum won’t be denied forever,” Tish warned her while sipping from a glass of wine.  She had shown up along with Divya and Joan upon hearing about Martha’s predicament.  “Sooner or later she’s gonna want an explanation.”

“And she’ll get one,” Martha insisted with quiet exasperation.  “As soon as I’ve had some time to sort myself.”

“From the looks of it, you all need to get sorted,” Tish appraised distastefully.

It was true.  The four of them made a sad spectacle.  Martha and Molly had both been wallowing in their misery over their recent heartbreaks.  Joan, meanwhile, had moved in with Divya following her row with John and Divya was still struggling with the Rafa situation.

“Seriously,” Tish continued.  “I can’t be the most together one.  It’s too much pressure.  I’ll fuck it up.  I know I will.”

“Div, yours is probably the easiest fix, isn’t it?” Molly reasoned from her spot on the sofa cuddled up with Martha.

“Yes and no,” Divya answered.  She placed a protective hand over her barely visible baby bump.  “Rafa and I care about each other, but we can’t seem to come to an agreement about where we should raise our baby.”

Martha frowned.  “You’re going to leave London?”

“Rafa wants us to go to Argentina.”

“And what do  _you_ want?” Joan pressed from her position next to her.

Divya turned to look Joan in the eyes.  “I certainly don’t want to, but is it unfair of me to not even consider if?”

“I think it’s unfair for him to decide what’s best for the both of you without getting your input,” Joan said bitterly.  Divya turned her gaze towards the others.  It was obviously that Joan’s words were coloured by her own situation with John.

“Joan…”  Molly began carefully, afraid that she might still be on thin ice after not revealing the Sherlock situation sooner.  “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I don’t have anything to say to John right now,” Joan shot back.

“I mean Sherlock,” Molly continued in a soft voice.  “Perhaps you need to get his side of things.”

Joan exhaled sharply and reached for the wine, filling her glass to the brim.  “I need to talk to Sherlock, but not about his feelings for me.”  She took a large gulp before continuing.  “Moriarty is back.”

“Jim?” Molly questioned with a confused expression.

Joan shook her head.  “Jamie.”

“She’s here in London?” Tish asked and Joan confirmed her suspicions with a nod.

Divya continued caressing her abdomen, thoughts clearly focused on her unborn child.  “Did she contact you?  Are you in danger?”

“No more than usual,” Joan answered.  She placed her hand over Divya’s and spoke in a gentle tone.  “I’d never put you or your baby in danger,” she promised.  Her gaze met each face.  “I’d never put any of you in harm’s way.”

“Not knowingly,” Martha replied.  “But unfortunately, we can’t predict the actions of someone like that.”

“So  _has_ she contacted you?”  Molly repeated Divya’s previous question.

Joan nodded.  “She sent me a painting.”

“A painting?”  Molly gasped softly and the wheels in her head began to turn.

“It’s her personal brand of  psychological warfare,” Joan replied.

Tish scrunched her nose.  “That seems a bit rubbish.  I mean what in the hell is a painting supposed to do?  Screw up your décor?”

“It’s a message,” Joan reasoned.  “For starters, it lets you know she’s watching you.”

“Stalker,” Tish quipped into her wine.

“The painting she sent had John in a sweater I had only just gotten him,” Joan continued.  “It was her way of saying that she was close.  She signed it with the address of Irene Adler’s place in Belgravia.”

“Didn’t you mention that she used that name when she first met Sherlock?” Divya questioned.

“She did,” Joan confirmed.  “And that’s where I found her.  She had made herself at home and setup a studio.  There were painting everywhere and not just of me and John.  She had them of Sherlock and Mycroft…”

“Of us?” Tish asked in alarm.                                                                             

“Me,” Molly said in a near whisper.  Her face alit with understanding.

Martha locked eyes on her.  “What?”

“I couldn’t understand why Sherlock had been so cruel the last time we spoke.  I mean he isn’t always the warmest person, but he was just…”  She shook her head.  “The point is I get it now.”

“Well can you give it to us, but I’m seriously confused,” Tish said.

Molly exhaled sharply through her nose.  “Sherlock received a painting.”

“Of what?”  Divya asked.

“Was it you?”  Martha pressed.

“I don’t know, but something about it unnerved him enough to push me away,” Molly told them.  “I think Moriarty was there with him when I went to see him.  There were a woman’s shoes in his flat and he said it was Irene Adler.  He led me to believe they were sleeping together in order to make me leave and of course I believed it like a daft cow,” she finished with a quiet huff.

“Hands…”  Joan chimed in a distracted voice.  She pointed at Molly’s hands.  “Moriarty mentioned your hands.  She said there were your best feature and when I found her she was painting a woman’s hands.”

“Well that’s not creepy at all,” Divya said sarcastically.

“Believe me, painting her hands is the less creepy option,” Joan assured them, silently recalling Moriarty’s suggestion about chopping Molly’s hands off and sending them to Sherlock.

“Oh my God…”  Molly said a moment later.  “She was following us.”

“Moriarty?”  Martha asked seriously.

Molly nodded.  “When I went with Sherlock to his recovery meeting, a blonde American stopped me.  She said she was an artist and she was obsessed with my hands.  I didn’t think much of it at the time but now…”  She shivered at the thought and Martha instinctively hugged her tightly.

“She’s after Sherlock,” Joan said standing up quickly.

“Which one?” Tish questioned.

“Mine,” Joan answered already moving to grab her coat.  “It’s always been him.  She thinks she’s in love with him.  She was the one who told me about you and Sherlock going to the meeting,” she confessed to Molly.

“But why would she send his brother a painting of Molly?” Martha demanded.

“Because Molly is a means to an end,” Joan said as the pieces all slid into place.  “Sherlock cares about Molly and he’d do anything to protect her.”

Molly blushed a bit, but her embarrassment didn’t stop her from asking her question.  “But what would Moriarty want Sherlock to do?”

“Everything Moriarty does is a game,” Joan reasoned.  “And how do you win a battle of wits?  Home court advantage.”

“Meaning?” Divya pressed.

“Sherlock came to London because of his brother.  I think Moriarty is going to use him to get him to return to New York,” Joan announced.


End file.
